And He Whispered, I Believe You
by Mark of a Raven
Summary: A Thief Lord movie based crossover. HermioneScipio. One Shot.


Hand on the strange mount that he was sure to ride, the dark haired young man paused. Did he want to do this? Prosper, the friend who was against this decisions, saw the moment of indecisiveness in his eyes, and called out, "Scipio! Scipio, _please_, for God's sake, don't do this!"

Desperation tinted the edges of his friend's voice. Scipio turned around, his dark eyes flashing. "Prosper, you don't know how bad it hurts. Hornet loves you, damn it. You don't know what it's like to have your heart all shattered to hell."

Prosper glared at him and snapped, "How do you think Hermione feels about you? And if you make yourself younger, you'll forget about us too, you idiot!"

Scipio sighed. Hermione Granger most certainly did _not_ love him. Or at least, she didn't act like it. She'd hid the fact that she was a witch, and when he got angry about it, she left him. Using the damn excuse of "I don't want you to get hurt." Whatever. She probably left for that bloody redhead that was always with her. Or maybe the green eyed boy. He didn't know. He didn't care. Or he didn't want to, anyway, and that's why he was here. The count had fixed the carousel, and he wanted to have another ride. He wanted, _needed_ to forget. The pain was too much.

He turned around and put his hand on the seahorse again. And with that simple touch, a flood of memories, the very memories he'd planned to forget, rushed into his mind like the oncoming tide.

_They met in a canal, when the brunette had been running flat out. Apparently, a strange man was chasing her. Hermione had collided straight into Scipio and sent them toppling into the clear water, this being a cleaner canal. He remembered she'd looked beautiful, all rosy and wet…He remembered their first kiss, under the stars, in the very same canal where they met…She had been his first, he had been hers. He swore that she would be his last…She'd disappear for weeks at a time, and when she came back, she'd be pale and thin. He'd hold her close and whisper loving things, trying to chase whatever demons that haunted her away. He despaired when she left, but true to her word, she always came back…The sight of her tears pouring down her face as he demanded to know why she'd hidden the fact that she was a witch from him. It wrenched his heart, but he couldn't let it go. "Why!?" he demanded loudly. She choked out through her tears, "I needed you to be safe…I couldn't bear it if you weren't." She wouldn't answer any more questions, but eventually, she said, in barely more then a whisper, "We need to stop seeing each other, Scipio…I can't have you get hurt…" And with that, she fled._

Scipio shuddered and pulled his hand back. He could feel her lips against his, even though she was no where near him. She could hear her say his name, in the gentle caress that she always used. It made him shudder, to hear her say his name. When they talked, the way she said it lovingly. When they laughed, the way she used it as though she was all that made her happy. When they made love, the way she either screamed it in ecstasy, or barely whispered it, delirious with love.

He shuddered. Did he want to forget all of that? He loved her. He loved their memories. He may be in pain, but did he really want to forget that.

"_Scipio…_"

"Shut up, Prop!" the troubled man snapped.

Prosper stepped back, stung. "I didn't say anything."

"Of course--!"

He was interrupted by the voice again. "_Scipio…Scipio…_SCIPIO!"

Prosper looked around. "Was that…Hermione?!"

Sure enough, Hermione Granger stumbled into the clearing, calling Scipio's name. Upon seeing him, she stopped abruptly and didn't seem to know what to say.

Neither did Scipio. He stared at her, and then managed to choke out, "H-Hermione?"

The lovely brunette had tears in her eyes. Scipio stepped towards her, then stopped. "Why are you here?" he asked roughly.

Hurt shone in her eyes. "P-please," she whispered. "I have wonderful news."

Scipio wanted, so badly, to take her into his arms, kiss her tears away, and ask her what the good news it. Instead, he snapped, "If it's that you and either one of your bloody friends are getting married, I don't want to here it. Why do you think I'm here? I want to forget, Hermione. Want to forget all the shit you put me through."

The tears began to flow, and Scipio felt his heart being torn out of his chest. Hermione choked on her words as the salty sadness slid down her face into her mouth and down her throat. "No…please, don't…Let me explain…"

"Let you explain? Explain what? That you never gave a damn about me? I think you've made that clear enough, Hermione. I loved you, damn it. I gave you my heart and you took it and tore it to shreds." He laughed harshly. "I don't care anymore. Go away." Even as he said it, he knew he cared about her, cared about her more then anyone in the world.

Hermione sank to her knees. "Scipio…please…I love you…I had to leave…it wasn't safe…but it is now…"

"What the hell are you talking about?" snarled Scipio. He hated himself now.

She turned her face up to look at him, and he noted that she looked pale, paler then one should, even with the moonlight on your face. "The war…the war is over…Harry and Ron…"

"Shut up!" Suddenly, Scipio was furious. He knew it! He knew she'd left him for those two!

Hermione was, by now, crying outright. Scipio opened his mouth to say more harsh words, but suddenly, Prosper, who had faded into the background and was forgotten, snapped, "Shut up, Scipio! How stupid do you get!? Listen to her, for God's sake!"

Hermione looked gratefully at Prosper, then back at Scipio. "Scipio…I left…to fight…in a war…" She had to pause often, as her sobs couldn't be stopped. "I'm on the Light, and we had to fight…against the Dark side, against Lord Voldemort…surely you've noticed…strange deaths?" She trailed away in sobs and hopeful silence.

Scipio frowned. Yes. Yes, he had. In fact, his father had been one of those strange deaths. "Yeah? So what?"

Hermione was beginning to cease crying. "That…was Lord Voldemort…He kills…people like you and me…people who aren't magical."

Scipio glared. How daft did she think he was? "You're a bloody _witch_, Hermione! If that's not magical, then I'm a donkey!"

Prosper muttered, "Well, you certainly are acting like an ass."

The older man glared at his friend, and Prosper retreated again. But Hermione laughed softly. "Not by blood. I'm a muggle, meaning none of my family were witches or wizards. Voldemort hates people like you and me. He planned to eradicate them."

Scipio felt his head begin to whirl. What did this have to do with Hermione? Had she left to, quite literally, protect him? He didn't want to believe it, not yet. That would mean he was wrong. "What does this have to do with me and you?"

Hermione looked up at him desperately. "Scipio, please, don't you see? I loved you! If Voldemort knew that, you'd be the first he'd kill, just to weaken me. I had to leave, I had to protect you. I couldn't bear it if you were hurt!"

Scipio knew, now, that he was wrong. But he stood his ground, much to his hearts protest. "How do I know you're telling the truth?"

Hermione made a strange noise which sounded half like a moan, half like a sigh of exasperation. She stood and walked over to him. Scipio stiffened when she put her hands on his chest, like she always used to, grab the collar of his jacket, like she always used to, and pulled his lips to hers, just like she always used to. Her kiss was searing, and made him as dizzy as it made her. Her tongue swiped his lower lip, and he responded, deepening the kiss.

Finally, after what felt like eons, they broke apart. Scipio put his forehead to hers and whispered, "I believe you."


End file.
